The Ghost on the Second Floor
by XxTotallyObsessedxX
Summary: Come over here, with me, and look out this window. Let me spin you a tale that I haven't spun in a while. I think you'll find it interesting. It's about a mysterious man. He went by Artemis Fowl. Are you listening carefully?


Hey, you. Yes, you.

Why don't you come over here, and have a seat? Look out this window with me, and listen to a story that I haven't told in a while. I've been dying to get it off my chest, because I think that I finally have the ending just right.

Yes, yes, look right out there. Do you see that house, over there? It's hard to miss, I believe. More like a manor, if you ask me. Not that you did.

Well, that manor was once the home of a very interesting man. Every week, on Thursday evenings, I would sit here and watch him arrive. He would get here at five o'clock every night, always punctual. I never figured out where he came from, but Thursday was the only day that he came. He didn't work, as far as I know. Why would you need to with a house like that, you know?

He would walk through the side door, never the front one. Then, one by one, the lights on the southwest side would turn on. First floor, second floor, third floor, and all the way to the fourth. Only one room, making four rooms light up all together.

If you ask me, it's quite possible that he was in all four of those rooms at once. He was a very interesting man, he was.

If you could see him, you'd know right away. He had the hair as dark as midnight, and the skin as white as the moon. My eyesight is nothing like it used to be, so I can't tell you much more. But he was stunning, I'll tell you that.

Anyway, don't let me get off topic.

This man would come home every Thursday night, five o'clock on the dot. Then, at six o'clock, there would be a new arrival. They were never quite as punctual, and never quite as stunning, but things should not be compared to perfection.

So, once a week, the man would have a visitor. It was always a girl, and the girl would always look like she came right out of a magazine. They were all kinds of girls, but they were all skinny, gorgeous, and poised. Some were blond, some were brunette, some were raven haired like the magician himself.

One would come walking up, and go into the manor through the front door. She would exit through the side door at nine o'clock. Always at nine o'clock, never a minute early or late. They might have been having a romantic candlelight dinner, but that wasn't it, if you ask me. Not that you did.

You think that's good? Well, that's not the half of it.

One day, I don't remember when, since my memory's just not what it was, a pretty little blond girl came through the front door at six o'clock. I was sitting here, looking out my window, as always. I never thought of it as spying, or anything. After all, there is a great view out this window.

Now, this girl was something else, I'm telling you. She had a head of curls on her, she did. And a body to pull it off. Of course, they all had that. But there was something about her. She was . . . Mysterious. Smarter.

She went in, and I thought nothing of it.

Then, something happened that had never happened before.

Another girl came, arriving at a little after seven o'clock. You hear that? A _little after seven. _That was strange in itself. The girl, again, was something else. Her red hair was short enough to be a man's, but I wasn't that blind. She also seemed a little on the small side, but like I said, my eyesight was never that great.

This girl went right on in through the side door. And she left a little after ten o'clock. But that pretty little blonde never made her way out.

That night, not all four lights went out in the manor. The second floor light stayed on, right on through to the next morning, and right on through to the next Thursday.

That Thursday evening, the interesting man left at five o'clock, instead of arriving.

And you want to hear something?

He never came back. But you probably saw that coming.

So you want to hear the real good part? I think I've got it right, now, and you'll be the first to hear it. Listen carefully, though. People will say that I'm crazy, but I know the truth. Nobody else saw things through this window.

What's that you say? Yes, that's the second floor on the southwest side, all right. And that's the same light that went on all those years ago. It never did go off.

You know what they say about that room? The say there's a ghost on the second floor. That's the pretty young thing that went in there. The Ghost on the Second Floor. They'd be better off thinking that she's a vampire, if you ask me. Not that you did.

Here's what I think. I'm pretty sure you know the first part, about the girl who wasn't punctual, but here's what I think about that second part. I think that the light on the second floor is going to stay on forever, because the pretty little ghost is in there, waiting. I wouldn't be surprised at all if she was in there, waiting for the interesting man to come through the door.

Perhaps she's expecting a candlelight dinner.

Everybody says that she's still in there, perfectly alive, tending to her ghost stories and her own life, but that's not what I think. She's dead as a doornail. They think she's a ghost on the inside, but they'll never think about the fact that there really is a ghost on the second floor.

That's what went on here, all those years ago, if you ask me.

Not that you did, or anything.

* * *

**A/N: **She lives! Yeah, this is a little different than what I usually write. A little longer . . . I think I took on more of a Stephen King approach. What did you think?

Thank you, hopelily, for the awesome beta.

Writing music: Desert Song; My Chemical Romance.

I think that what I listen to when I write really sets a mood, so I think I'll start including it.

**Disclaimer: **All characters, save the narrator, belong to Eoin Colfer.


End file.
